Dance with the Devil
by Dani Zatara
Summary: Tell me, have you ever stolen from the Devil? It's, uh, it's a very dangerous thing to do Har-ley...especially if he finds out. Rated T for violence.


**Dance with the Devil**

"Do you…_really _want to know how I got these scars?" He laughed quietly to himself, his eyes rolling almost to the back of his head, as if he were trying to remember the punch line to some terrific joke. The girl thought for a moment, surveying this display of madness from her spot huddled up on the sofa. She then nodded slowly, eagerly hoping that he would finally tell her the truth, but not wanting to show her desires to blatantly. Deep within, she knew that the scars were part of the reason this man had terrorized Gotham, leaving nothing but rubble and ashes in his wake. Noticing her approval, the man stopped his hushed fit of giggles and stalked over to her, kneeling down so their faces were barely inches apart. Behind the clown makeup, his face was a mask of seriousness.

"Do you, uh, do you like to _d_ance, Har.Lee?" His breath reeked of stale coffee and she tried her hardest not to plug her nose at the invasion of such an unpleasant odour. Without breaking eye contact, knowing that it would upset him if she did such, she shook her head. She was never one for dancing; acrobatics, maybe, but never dancing.

"Me…neither," he whispered, running a gloved hand down her face, from her forehead to her jaw. He unhurriedly traced her lips with his index finger. Desperately, she tried not to blink. If she closed her eyes, even for a moment, she would pay the price. His love for the limelight nearly always ended in bruises for her. "But I, uh, I betcha didn't know that I," his paused for a moment to lick his lips, "I did a dance with the…with the _dev_-il. Do you wanna hear a st-ory?" She nodded again and he stood, pulling his hand away from her face. With a grin growing on his face, he took a seat on the sofa beside her, fixing her with a glare from cold eyes. A demonic grin still played on his lips and that worried her greatly. She had heard dozens of stories about the origins of his awful scars, and she knew that nothing he was about to tell her could possibly be considered amusing. There was no need for him to be smiling.

Almost awkwardly, he patted his shoulder, summoning her closer to him. She knew better than to disobey and leaned over to him, resting her head in the crook of his neck. It was certainly not the perfect fit she had imagined it would be when she first fell head over heels in love with him. In fact, it was rather uncomfortable, what with his shoulder jutting into her cheek. Satisfied with her compliance, he reached up to run his fingers through her hair, the leather of his gloves creating friction and discomfort for her, though she dare not make a sound.

"I was married once, _Har-_ley," he smacked his lips in the manner she had grown so used to, "To a pretty little blonde...Just. Like. You…" He paused for a moment, grabbing her chin and pulling her face up towards his. His lips were so close to hers she could practically feel them as they twitched. And without warning, he released her, pushing her away from him. She winced as her neck twisted back, but she did not cry out. Instead, she focused her attention back on him, knowing he was ready to continue with his macabre tale.

"And uh, she was all…_blown up_," he giggled at his choice of words, "Around the tummy. And me…well, I was going to be a proud papa bear…" His words fell away into silence and she wondered if she was actually, finally, getting the truth out of him. He seemed to be remembering something that he had long since blocked from his mind. She actually felt a pang of sorrow flit through her gut. She pitied this man, for whatever had happened to him, for whatever had driven him over the edge.

"Say, _sugar_," he continued on, once more licking his chapped lips and moving closer to her, "Do you, uh, do you happen to know what they say the root of all…evil is?"

"Money," she whispered through a dry throat, "The root of all evil is money."

"That's what _they_ say," he mumbled, "Isn't it? But…but, ya see, _money_ makes the world go round. And I didn't have much of that. So, do you want to know what I did, _Har-_ley?"

In all honesty, she didn't. There was a feverishly mad look behind his dark eyes that scared her more than anything she had ever seen this man do. Still, she remembered what had happened last time she had refused to listen to one of his sick stories. Shuddering at the thought, she nodded her head, ever so slightly.

"I went and made a deal," he smacked his lips again, "I did a little…dance with the devil. I sold his, uh, his _drugs_ for some money. And I was smiling, and he was smiling and my pretty…little…wife, well she wasn't. She. Still. _Cried_. So, 'cause I, uh, 'cause I loved her so much, I stole from the devil…Have you ever stolen from the devil?"

She shook her head, trying hard not to let the fear show through her eyes. If she managed to live through this story, it would be a miracle. She had never seen him look so intense; so frightening. She could only imagine what punishment she would receive for hearing his innermost secrets, even if he did share them voluntarily.

"It's a dangerous thing to do, _Har_-ley," he continued, "Especially if he, uh, finds out."

"Did he?" she asked, her voice trembling. Before she could even process the fact that she had spoken, her interruption was rewarded with a swift fist striking her cheek. Terrified that this punch was the first of many, she scampered and backed up against the opposite wall, watching with wide eyes as he advanced on her, his fists balled at his sides. When he spoke again, his voice was low and vehement, as though he were trying to control the rabid animal inside.

"You're supposed to be a smart girl," he hissed, "What do you think happened?" She said nothing, afraid that any words would just result in her getting hit again. However, she should have known better than to be silent. He always did hate being ignored. With a lightning strike, his open palm made contact with her already stinging cheek. She willed the tears to stay away.

"I said," he breathed, "What do you _think_ happened?"

"I...I think he did find out," she stuttered. A small, satisfied grin broke onto his lips; happy that he had broken her once more. Or maybe he was just reaching the favourite part of his twisted story. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her securely to the wall, his yellowed teeth level with her eyes.

"When the devil found out I was, uh, two-timing him," he grinned maniacally, "He was very unhappy. He decided to get even with me. They brought us to this little place, my wife and me, real, _real_ dark. And one of 'em held a gun up to my head while the devil himself grabbed my pretty little pregnant wife by the throat and asked her…asked her if she wanted to _play a game_…" His grin widened, as if the story were the funniest thing on Earth. She felt sick to her stomach and wished he would spare her the rest of the details. "_A game_," he repeated, smacking his lips, "So he, uh, he pulls out this shot-_gu_n and suggests that we all have a little round of Russian roulette. He aims and he fires and…BANG!" He yelled the last word, spraying her with his spittle and causing her spine to stiffen. She could feel the water welling up in her eyes as he described his most painful experience to her.

"And then," he chuckled madly, "It gets even _better_. He looks at me and he points the gun at the floor…and he, uh, he fires five more shots into the tiles. His gun was loaded…He cheated. So, he gives the guy holding me…he gives him some orders. And this guy, uh, a real young guy comes at me with a knife and he carves my face out…_real, real good._ And ya know, ya know what he says to me? He says, 'sorry pal, but that's just the way we do things around here.'"

By the time his story ended, she was crying, even though she knew her pity would make him angry. With an angry, almost guttural growl, he threw her to the ground, taking pleasure as she landed in a heap at his feet. With another laugh, he walked away, eager to see how long it would be until she came crawling back.

**END**

_--_

_So, thanks for reading this. I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts and comments. Also, I don't own the Joker or Harley Quinn, or anything for that matter. Thanks again and please review._

_Cheers!_

_/Dani_


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